Hold the Line
by thx10050
Summary: A Space Marine Veteran and a Dreadnought hold the line against Chaos on an embattled Imperial world.


((Disclaimer: I don't own anything about Warhammer 40K, Warhammer Fantasy, etc. Everything Warhammer-related belongs to Games Workshop. This story is written for entertainment purposes only.))

((Author's Note: This story was written for one of Imperial Literature's contests a few years back. I haven't really modified or edited it since then. Though it only garnered one vote for favorite story, I thought I'd post it up here, see what other people think. Thanks, and enjoy.))

**Hold the Line**

"_**They shall be my finest warriors, these men who give of themselves to me. Like clay I shall mold them and in the furnace of war forge them. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armor shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns shall they be armed. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies, and machines such that no foe can best them in battle. They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear.**_"

- The Immortal Emperor of Mankind

"Marcus_-_"

Sergeant Xerius' deep and commanding voice over the voxcaster was momentarily drowned out by the blast-roar of Marcus' storm bolter.

The elite Space Marine of the Void Knights Chapter opened fire at over a dozen masked cultists as they swarmed up and over a mountain of debris and rubble before his defensive position. Servo-motors whining and power cables humming, he stepped out from behind the relatively sparse cover of a rubble mound to gain a clearer firing point. The rubble mound had once been part of the hab-block behind him, the large building now reduced to shattered and pock-marked walls surrounded by piles of mixed debris.

He swept his storm bolter from left to right, the spray of bolts exploding the cultists' lightly armored bodies. Auto-gun bullets rattled against his massive suit of gold and purple Terminator armor, ricocheting off in bright showers of sparks. Laser bolts sizzled ineffectually against his armor as well, leaving black scars in several places.

Marcus whispered a brief prayer to assuage his armor's undoubtedly troubled war-spirit, even as bolts from his storm bolter blew apart the last of the cultists in sprays of bone and gore. His dark eyes, set in an aquiline and chiseled face, glared through the red eyepieces of his heavy helmet, glancing around for any additional attacks. Believing his location was secure for the moment, the Space Marine activated his voxcaster with a simple thought, the Black Carapace carrying the electrical signals from his brain to his armor's control systems.

"Sergeant Xerius, say again; I didn't hear your last."

There was a momentary pause of crackling static over the comm-channel, interference from the shuddering, near continuous artillery bombardments being launched by both Imperial Basilisks and enemy gun positions that had pounded Hive Drakas' outer city limits into a sea of plascrete rubble and twisted metal.

"Marcus," Sergeant Xerius replied. "The squad will rendezvous at the following coordinates." Marcus' heads-up-display automatically superimposed a transparent map in his field of vision. A bright blue icon indicated the location specified. "Venerable Brother Aescarion is under heavy attack there from numerous Chaos cultists. Both his lascannon and right leg have been disabled. We will reinforce his position so that Tech-Marine Graevus can conduct emergency repairs."

"Understood, Sergeant," Marcus replied immediately. "I'm on the move now."

Without another word, the Crusader turned to his right and powered forward, smashing through a nearby partially ruined wall. His armored form tore through crumbling plascrete reinforced with steel rebar and crushed rubble into powder, raising clouds of choking dust. He effortlessly knocked aside massive chunks of twisted support girders that blocked his path and emerged from the ruined hab-block onto what remained of a paved street before the skeletal ruins of a massive factory. Marcus then made best possible speed towards where Brother Aescarion was located. His heavy suit of Terminator armor flattened all obstacles in his path, from the burnt and warped hulks of vehicles to piles of bloody corpses, both Imperial Guardsmen and leather-clad Chaos cultists.

- - - - -

The siege of Hive Drakas on the embattled world of Agripinaa had lasted for weeks now. After days of constant battle, the outer loyalist bastions had fallen. This had allowed hundreds of warped and twisted cultists and dozens of Traitor Marines from the foul Chaos Legions to penetrate the city proper and besiege the primary spaceport. A massive evacuation effort for innocent non-combatants was being concentrated there by the Imperial forces, but the stalwart defense had eventually succumbed into a desperate holding action. Platoons of Imperial Guardsmen were entrenched in hastily constructed armorcrete bunkers or in the remnants of buildings, forming a massive battleline that stretched before the spaceport for over ten kilometers. Across a nightmare landscape of ruined buildings, twisted metal, shattered plascrete, and smashed pipelines, the Guardsmen fought savagely against the foe, making the forces of Abbadon's 13th Black Crusade pay in rivers of blood for every inch of ground gained.

The unenviable task of securing the vulnerable flanks of the battleline had fallen on the Void Knights Chapter's First Company, the elite Crusaders.

- - - - -

Marcus knew he neared Brother Aescarion's position because he could hear the seemingly non-stop cacophony of nearby weapons fire. His enhanced hearing identified a variety of weapons, everything from the staccato rattle of auto-guns to the sizzling crack of lasguns to the sharp explosions of hand grenades. However, despite the overpowering noise, he could also hear the distinct blast-roar of a storm bolter. That meant Brother Aescarion was still alive and still fighting against the enemy. His armor's built-in auspex in the upper right corner of his heads-up-display showed a veritable sea of red enemy icons surrounding a lone green one.

Marcus gritted his teeth and increased his pace. He fairly charged up a wide hill of ferrocrete rubble mixed in with shattered glass, bundles of torn copper wires, and broken metal.

"By the Eye," He cursed softly as he reached the top, his eyes taking in the scene in a split second with inhuman clarity.

Venerable Brother Aescarion had been holding the remnants of a manufacturing cathedral, a key position on the Imperial battleline's right flank. The enormous building had been reduced to rubble from enemy shelling over two weeks ago. Nothing intact remained of the baroque architecture of the building, save a scant few of its immense metal support buttresses.

Aescarion himself was now involved in what Imperial strategos would call a 'static defense.' The Dreadnought's massive form was flayed and scarred, stripped in several places of its heaviest armor. His short thick legs and weapon arms weren't in any better condition, buckled and rent by enemy fire. Even his life-sustaining sarcophagus was mauled and torn. Molten metal mixed with gold and purple paint dripped down Aescarion's blocky shoulders like tears of pain. The finely detailed stone heraldry and silver iconography that had graced the Dreadnought's warhull were gone, blasted into fragments. The ancient purity seals that had hung proudly from the Venerable Brother's arms and torso had been burnt to cinders.

Marcus couldn't see the damage to Aescarion's right leg, but he could see the large smoking crater in the lascannon arm. Jagged bolts of energy discharged randomly from the crater into the mass of cultists surrounding him, indicating at the very least a ruptured power conduit within.

Despite his grievous injuries, Aescarion was still fighting back against the enemy. His torso twisted back and forth with a loud mechanized hum as he lashed out with the huge, crackling power fist at the end of his left arm. Every now and then the Dreadnought would loose a spray of fire from the storm bolter mounted beneath the power fist, exploding apart the tightly packed cultists, whose numbers threatened to topple the Venerable Brother over.

Scores of masked and leather-clad cultists were packed in around the beleaguered Dreadnought. They were howling and screaming madly, pressing their myriad weapons directly against the armored skin of their towering opponent before firing. A dozen at a time were killed every moment by Aescarion, blown apart by the roaring storm bolter or smashed into bloody ruins by the swinging power fist. Some cultists were even killed by their own weapons as ammunition cooked off or power cells overloaded. Nevertheless, the crazed servants of the Dark Gods continued to press forward, trying to jam grenades into joints or melt through armor plating that was red hot and weakened.

"For the Emperor!" Marcus bellowed, his helmet speakers projecting and amplifying his deep voice externally into a terrifying roar. He pounded down the hill of rubble to land with a thunderous clang of adamantium armor against the remnants of a massive brass pipeline. His legs flexed to absorb the heavy impact, internal gyro-stabilizers whining as they struggled to keep him balanced on the shifting metal. In the next moment, Marcus' storm bolter swept the back of Aescarion's warhull clear of black-clad cultists as they scrambled over the Dreadnought in an attempt to attach krak grenades and anti-tank mines to his power generator. Charging forward, he plowed into the mass of cultists like an avalanche, feeling their bodies bounce off of his Terminator-armored form. He trampled several into the broken ground, his armored feet pulverizing bones and tearing flesh into bloody rags.

"Brother Aescarion, this is Crusader Marcus," He said over the voxcaster. His power fist swung out like a wrecking ball to smash aside three cultists. "Reinforcements have arrived."

"**Acknowledged, Crusader Marcus,**" The Venerable Brother replied in his deep electronically-modulated voice. "**I have sustained serious damage. You have arrived just in time, praise the Emperor.**"

Additional storm bolter fire was then heard and four other gold and purple armored forms emerged from the debris near Marcus' last position.

"Form up, squad," Sergeant Xerius ordered. "Push the enemy back and secure this position."

With a collective roar, the other four Terminators charged into the swirling melee.

Power fists, wreathed in blue-white fire, lashed out to smash cultists flying left and right, their bodies torn and broken. Storm bolters thundered with divine fury, exploding the servants of the Ruinous Powers in sprays of bone and gore. One screaming cultist with far too many eyes and a lobster-like claw for a right hand stabbed at Marcus' chest. The rusty blade of the short sword held in his left hand snapped at the hilt as it glanced ineffectually off of the Crusader's Terminator armor.

Valdez, fighting to Marcus' right side, brought his power fist down in a tremendous hammer blow to the cultist's head. The great blazing fist squashed the cultist's body into the ground, bones bursting from flesh, blood instantly steaming into an acrid mist off the disruption field. The shuddering impact knocked several nearby cultists to their knees. They were quickly crushed to death beneath the Terminators' armored feet. To Marcus' left, Xerius cut down three shrieking enemies with a vicious slash of his power sword. He then parried a blow from a smoking chain sword, the squealing blade shattering against his weapon's crackling energy field. In the next moment, Xerius split the mutated cultist in two from head to crotch.

After mere seconds since the brutal assault had begun, more than a third of the cultists were dead or dying, their weapons ineffective in harming the massively armored Crusaders. Marcus could see the terror that entered the cultists' wide and bloodshot eyes as they realized their Dark Gods were seemingly unwilling to save them. Many of them panicked, attempting to flee the Crusaders' wrath. They were blocked from escaping by dozens of their fellows who still pushed forward behind them. Bunched up and struggling against one another, the cultists made themselves even more vulnerable targets for the Space Marines' weaponry. Storm bolter fire punched through several lightly armored bodies at a time before exploding. Valdez and Sark's assault cannons came to life with high pitched buzz-saw shrieks. The twin streams of high caliber shells scythed through enemy bodies, reaping a bloody harvest. A large group of cultists were forced back against Aescarion by the press of bodies and slain by the Dreadnought's swinging close combat arm. Within only a few more minutes, the last of the cultists had been killed, more than a few of them shot from behind as they tried to escape.

Standing amidst the bloody corpses that were piled up like cordwood, the Crusaders paused to scan the area for more enemies.

"Squad, spread out and defend the perimeter," Xerius said, gesturing with his power sword. He had deactivated the weapon, blood dripping from the once gleaming blade. "Brother Aescarion, damage report."

"**I have sustained heavy damage to my sarcophagus and warhull, Sergeant Xerius,**" Aescarion began, his booming voice sounding even more mechanical as the Dreadnought's machine-spirit aspect of his personality asserted itself. "**My overall armor has been reduced to fifty-five percent. There is moderate damage to my primary and secondary photon line bundles and phased crystal arrays. My power systems are fluctuating and have been reduced to sixty-two percent of optimal; I have switched over to my crystal batteries for the time being. Life support has been reduced to seventy percent. Long-range voxcaster is inoperable. Damage to my surveyor systems has reduced their effectiveness to seventy-three percent. My right knee joint has been compromised and will need to be replaced. Until it is, I am immobile and cannot contribute effectively to the defense of this position.**"

"Understood, Venerable Brother," Xerius replied. "Tech-Marine Graevus will be arriving shortly to conduct emergency repairs. What's the status of your weapons?"

"**My lascannon's focusing lenses have been cracked, the barrels have been warped, and primary power feeds have been severed. Secondary power feeds have been fused. The targeting servo-motors have been damaged and are frozen. However, my close combat arm is still functional and I have two hundred bolter rounds remaining.**"

"If necessary, we'll draw the enemy to you and then crush them against your warhull. Squad, status."

"Enemy movement spotted, Sergeant," Sark reported. "But it doesn't look like they're getting ready for another assault."

"Confirmed," Tomas said. "I've only seen a few small and scattered groups of those Emperor-forsaken cultists. Not enough for another full-scale attack. It seems we shattered their main offensive into this sector for now."

"Acknowledged," Xerius replied. "I'll update our status to Command."

"It'd be good if we could finally take the fight to the enemy," Valdez growled, hefting his multi-barreled assault cannon meaningfully. "We've been on the defensive for too long now."

"**I agree,**" Aescarion said, his torso twisting back and forth with a hum as his long-range surveyors reached out for signs of the enemy. "**I believe an offensive action at this point, properly planned and executed, would contribute far more to the defense of the evacuation.**"

"Listen up, squad," Xerius interrupted his voice grim. "I've received new orders from Captain Darius. A Chaos Land Raider has split off from the enemy's main force and has swept around to attack this sector. Our Chapter Master isn't sure if this is a diversion or not, but the threat cannot be ignored. Sergeant Octavian's Scout squad is setting up a demo trap in the foundation of a barracks on the main street east of here. Once they're finished, they're going to pull back. If the demo trap fails, we're to stop the Land Raider by any means necessary to preserve the integrity of the battleline. Understood?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" Came the immediate reply from the four other Crusaders.

"Venerable Brother Aescarion," Xerius continued. "Brother Graevus' ETA is five minutes. Continue to hold this position against any counter-attack."

"**Understood, Sergeant Xerius,**" Aescarion replied. He raised his left arm in salute. "**May the Emperor watch over you, my brothers.**"

"Diamond formation, squad," The Sergeant said. "Tomas, point. Marcus, rear guard. Valdez, Sark, watch the flanks. Move out."

- - - - -

Terminator-armored Space Marines weren't meant to hide; they weren't meant to lay in wait for the foe. They made up the Chapter's elite assault force, to be unleashed in irresistible assaults against the most hardened and heavily defended enemy strong points. Yet now Marcus found himself hiding in the darkness of a cave formed from a massive stone statue of the Immortal Emperor that had fallen and become wedged against a thick shattered wall. The statue, its fiery sword still brandished defiantly at the polluted skies above, lay at a forty-five degree angle on top of the remnants of the wall. Its back was only a little more than half a meter up from the top of Marcus' helmeted head. He had considered the position a sign of the Emperor's favor when Sergeant Xerius had assigned him to it.

His armor's power systems had been lowered to minimal operational needs to reduce the chances of detection. And to further aid in his concealment, his gold and purple suit of Terminator armor had been darkened with handfuls of thick ash and dust. Marcus knew his armor's war-spirit would be angered by the need to cover up its proud colors and heraldry. He would need to ritually cleanse every last piece of the armor later and then ask a Tech-Marine to bless and anoint it, restoring the armor once more into the favor of the Emperor and the Machine-God.

Marcus whispered a prayer for protection to the Emperor as he studied the auspex display on his HUD.

The squad was spread out across the wide and rubble-strewn avenue in a curving 'U' formation. All of the Space Marines were in positions that afforded them visual concealment. Their positions were also chosen to allow them power emission suppression in the form of thick chunks of debris. These slabs and mounds might serve to disrupt surveyor scans, making positive returns on the squad more unlikely.

Marcus' voxcaster crackled quietly to life.

"Sergeant Octavian here," A voice whispered harshly. "Enemy Land Raider approaching at high speed. It will enter the threat zone in two minutes."

The Crusader's auto-senses had already picked up the distant growl of the Land Raider's powerful engine. He adjusted his helmet's optical systems, zooming in closer in the direction the enemy vehicle was approaching from. His dark eyes narrowed as his face twisted into a glare as he gazed upon the foul Chaos vehicle. Though he had seen its ilk many times before, his reaction was always the same: hatred and revulsion.

There was no mistaking the once Imperial Land Raider for anything else, but a machine that was now damned and twisted by the Ruinous Powers of Chaos. The huge and heavily armored tank-transport was crudely painted a mixture of black, red, and gold. Rusty blades, chains, and long spikes criss-crossed its hull. Slimy claws erupted from fleshy growths in its armored flanks. Its two side hatches seemed to have fused solid into twin masses of suckered tentacles that writhed and twitched grotesquely. The frame around the forward assault ramps was rimmed with long jagged teeth, resembling a malformed mouth. A massive, all too human green eye seemed to swell from the upper corner of the right forward track guard. Blasphemous runes of Chaos had been carved into the vehicle's hull and glowed red with power. And atop its upper hull, the eight pointed star of Chaos had been drawn in blood on a foul standard made from human flesh. The standard flapped in the cold wind that swept across Hive Drakas, hanging brazenly for all to see from a rusting banner pole topped by the heads of a dozen Imperial Guardsmen.

"On my command, Sergeant Octavian," Sergeant Xerius said grimly over the comm-channel as the abomination drew ever closer, its engine rattling and coughing, black smoke billowing from the rusted exhaust pipes at its rear. "Three…two…one…mark."

The demolition packs that Octavian's squad had prepared exploded with twin roars. Thick clouds of dust and smoke spurted out from the barrack's foundations. Marcus felt the shockwaves even through his armor as the ground quaked beneath his feet. The remnants of the large building seemed to tilt ponderously to the right until the entire ruin was crashing down in an unstoppable tide of armorcrete, ceramite plates, copper piping, and twisted wires. The Chaos Land Raider reacted too slowly, its attempt to gun its engine and race ahead of the oncoming torrent failing miserably. An inhuman howl of rage seemed to erupt from the vehicle itself as it was buried under tons and tons of rubble and detritus. Massive amounts of dust rose to smother the entire area, a thick grey haze impenetrable to normal vision.

A moment passed in silence, broken only by the clatter of settling debris.

"Good work, Sergeant Octavian," Xerius said, a small note of satisfaction creeping into his otherwise stern voice. "Scratch one-"

The Sergeant's voice was cut off by the same inhuman roar the Terminators had heard moments before the Land Raider's demise. Now it was heard again, low and muffled, but still strong. There came the sounds of loud crashing and several deep crunches as rubble and dirt was shifted in the depths of the dust cloud.

"Status!" Xerius barked over the voxcaster as he raised his power sword. The dust around him was bathed in a blue-white glow from the energy field crackling across the blade's surface.

"I can't see an Emperor-forsaken thing, Sergeant," Marcus replied grimly as he strode from his hiding place and further into the dust cloud. He panned his storm bolter from side to side, his power fist activated and ready.

"Zero visibility, Sergeant," Valdez reported. "And my auspex is useless."

To Marcus, the roaring and bellowing seemed to grow steadily louder. In another moment, he could hear the piercing squeal of metal scraping against metal. More clangs and crashes reverberated though the air as debris was brutally shouldered aside.

"Nothing here, Sergeant," Tomas said, his IFF icon on Marcus' auspex indicating he was the closest to where the Chaos Land Raider had been buried. "I- Wait… I can see a red light close by, north-west of my position. It's moving this way. Orders, Sergeant?"

"Find cover and hold your position!" Xerius snapped. "Marines, converge on Tomas!"

"Sergeant!" Tomas shouted. "The enemy is here! Engaging!"

Marcus heard storm bolter fire, muted and indistinct, come from deeper within the dust cloud. He walked steadily towards Tomas' position, unwilling to risk making an unexpected encounter with the foe all the more deadly by blundering into them.

The distinct sound of a lightning-like crack mixed in with a high pitched hum was heard in the next moment. A gurgling cough came over the comm-channel. On Marcus' HUD, Tomas' icon shifted from green into a small double headed Imperial Eagle.

"Emperor's Teeth, Tomas is gone!" Sark cursed. "Does anyone see anything?"

"Negative," Marcus replied grimly.

"Squad, converge on my position," Xerius ordered.

On Marcus' auspex, the Sergeant's icon was about fifteen meters to his right. His vision was clearing slowly as the dust cloud finally began to settle. However, interference from the cloud still caused grainy static to wash through his auspex screen at random intervals. And there was also no visible sign of that damned Land Raider, though he could hear its loud, sputtering engine nearby.

"Defensive circle," Xerius said as Marcus, Valdez, and Sark emerged from the dust to join him. "Sergeant Octavian, do you see anything?"

The Scout squad had pulled back over half a kilometer to a position overlooking the ambush site. From there, they had been diligently scanning over the area from the beginning using monoculars and the scopes of their sniper rifles.

"Octavian here," Came the growling voice over the voxcaster. "I only saw it for a moment, but now it's gone. Gabriel thinks it's- Wait! I see it! Throne, it's twenty meters in front-!"

The deep and rapid drumming of a heavy bolter interrupted the Sergeant's voice. The heavy caliber explosive shells swept out from the swirling dust before the four Crusaders where a dark and monstrous form was emerging, howling with rage. The shells stitched a jagged line from Marcus' armored feet to his helmet. The multiple impacts combined together to smash the Space Marine back several steps, cracking one of his helmet's red eyepieces and knocking him off balance. Even as Marcus landed back first against the ground in a crash of heavy armor against plascrete, several red damage runes flickered to life on his HUD. Sharp stabs of pain came from his chest and right arm, indicating the enemy's fire had managed to penetrate his holy suit of Terminator armor.

With the same sharp crack and high pitched hum, twin beams of red-white energy lashed out from each of the oncoming Chaos Land Raider's lascannon sponsons. Both sponsons had targeted Valdez and Sark, the daemonically possessed tank-transport recognizing those two heavy weapon Crusaders as the greatest threats. The pair of beams from the right sponson slashed across Sark's chest, but the Space Marine was already in motion as soon as the heavy bolter had begun to fire. Though he was only struck a glancing blow, the powerful energy beams still burned through his chest plate, drawing forth a stifled bark of pain. The impact slapped him backwards through a broken wall as if he had been struck by a giant hand.

Valdez wasn't as fortunate. The twin energy beams from the left sponson struck him head-on. They carved through his ancient suit of Terminator armor like a power knife through parchment. Slashed in two from left hip to right shoulder, Valdez died instantly and without a sound. His armored corpse fell in a heap, severed power conduits causing his body to momentarily jerk and twitch spasmodically. The acrid and nauseating stench of molten metal mixed with charred flesh and boiled blood filled the air.

The very air seemed to vibrate with the possessed Land Raider's bestial roar of triumph.

Sergeant Xerius was initially shocked at the speed with which three of his Space Marines had been so easily dispatched by the enemy. Iron-clad discipline and focus fell into place a moment later. Marcus, lying on the cracked ground behind him, was still alive as was Sark, though his vital signs on the Sergeant's HUD were fluctuating dangerously. Valdez and Tomas would be avenged, Xerius swore. But in the plain sight of the enemy, there was little the Sergeant could do. With grim and resolute purpose, the Crusader began to walk towards the twisted Land Raider. Though he knew his weapons were useless against the daemonic monstrosity, he nevertheless raised his power sword and readied his storm bolter, determined to sell his life dearly. Perhaps he could goad whatever was inside the possessed tank-transport to come out and fight him hand-to-hand.

Harsh and grating laughter at the Sergeant's defiant advance issued from leering faces that swelled from the Land Raider's hull, the bulging green eye rolling madly in its weeping socket. The twin clusters of tentacles twitched in agitation as the massive vehicle backed up a meter and turned slightly to its right. It brought its left lascannon sponson to bear, the weapon aligned squarely with the Sergeant's chest. Xerius could see red-white energies begin to glow deep within the long barrels as the lascannon powered up.

"There is only the Immortal Emperor and He is our Shield and Protector," Xerius whispered in prayer, sweeping his power sword out to one side. "The Darkness has no hold over me, for the Emperor's Will is my torch and with it I will destroy the Shadows."

Just as the lascannon fired, the twin energy beams stabbing out at the Sergeant like bolts of coherent lightning, there came the buzz-saw shriek of assault cannon fire from behind him. A storm of shells sawed into the front of the sponson, shredding the lascannon barrels, tearing apart power cables, and mangling the weapon completely. The Land Raider shrieked in rage as the sponson was knocked off target, the energy beams slicing away Xerius' right leg instead of blasting through his chest. The Sergeant collapsed to the ground with a grunt of pain, the horrific injury instantly cauterized by the fearsome energies.

Xerius, lying on his right side, struggled to pull himself into a sitting position. His enhanced immune system dumped pain killers and stimulant drugs from specialized organs into his blood stream to keep the Sergeant alert and ready. Large armored feet strode into his field of vision a moment later, their heavy tread crushing pieces of plascrete and metal with audible crunches. He looked up to see Marcus standing next to him, Valdez's assault cannon firmly clenched in his right hand and his power fist blazing.

"Get out of here, Marcus," The Sergeant rasped. "Pull back and wait for reinforcements."

"I won't abandon you, brother," Marcus said, glancing down at Xerius. He paused for a moment and then his tone became more formal. "What is the terror of death?"

"That we die, our work incomplete," Xerius replied without hesitation. He nodded in understanding, the gesture unseen beneath his helmet.

The Land Raider was still bellowing in rage, its forward assault ramps gnashing together like a roaring mouth. The corrupted tank-transport backed up over thirty meters and then its metal treads spun madly as it revved its engine to full power. With a howl of fury, it seemed to spring forward, bearing down on the two Crusaders like an unstoppable juggernaught.

"For the Emperor, Sergeant," Marcus said, raising the assault cannon, the fingers of his power fist flexing.

"For the Emperor, Marcus," Xerius replied, saluting the Crusader with his right fist over his primary heart.

And then Marcus charged forward, his assault cannon spitting out a hail of fire. The Chaos Land Raider laughed insanely as it came on, shells slashing lines of bright sparks across its hull. The green eye exploded in a shower of pus and organic matter, but the injury only made the possessed vehicle laugh all the louder. Mere seconds before the Land Raider seemed about to crush him, Marcus gritted his teeth and tossed aside the now empty assault cannon to land with a heavy crunch in the street.

With a roar, he raised both his right hand and his power fist, and slammed headlong into the oncoming Land Raider. The tremendous impact almost drove the Crusader to his knees. Pain seared through his shoulders, his arms feeling as if they would tear from their sockets. His armored feet were driven hard into the ground, ripping deep gouges into the plascrete and sending shards of it flying all around like a deadly hail. Almost gasping with the effort, the Crusader pushed with all of his strength against the lower assault ramp. Desperate thought commands raced out to summon more power from his groaning suit of Terminator armor. Already he could sense servo-motors quickly overheating, energy cables nearing overload. And still the possessed Land Raider was driving him back slowly, but steadily towards where Xerius lay, his armored feet tearing through the ground.

Momentary respite came in the form of a long shallow pit filled with loose dirt and ash. The Land Raider's rusty treads squealed as they spun rapidly, momentarily losing their traction. Marcus was quick to seize the opportunity, digging his feet deeper into the broken ground and pushing forward with a rasping shout. His twin hearts seemed to hammer against his fused ribcage. He felt the muscles in his shoulders, arms, and legs burning with fatigue. Tendons and veins swelled from his body like cords. His breath came in sharp, rapid gasps and he had to force himself to control his breathing. The Crusader managed to raise his right leg and plant it before him, his body now leaning forward in a lunge. Biting back a scream of effort, Marcus pushed forward as hard as he could. He could feel the plascrete beneath his feet splintering and cracking from the immense pressure.

Despite the overpowering noise of the Land Raider's rumbling engine, he heard the daemonic vehicle chuckling long and hard. It was clearly amused with the Space Marine's seemingly futile struggle to stop it from crushing both himself and the injured one lying behind him.

With a Herculean effort, Marcus shoved the Land Raider back a step, stubbornly refusing to give in. Sweat streamed down from his forehead, stinging his eyes until the translucent secondary eyelids slid automatically into place to preserve his vision. He glanced up to see the upper assault ramp opening and closing in time to the possessed tank-transport's maniacal laughing. The Crusader forcibly suppressed a gag from the foul odor that was blasted into his face from the opening, despite his armor's air filtration systems. The ramp stopped moving, though the laughing continued unabated. The twisted heavy bolter then came to life, pounding shells into Marcus' armored body at point blank range. He staggered as a volley blasted a chunk of armor from his left thigh. Shrapnel tore through the jagged hole, shredding his leg down to the bone. Severed energy cables sparked angrily, burning the exposed muscle and sinew.

It was the turning point. He might have had a chance to hold the Land Raider off for another two minutes or so, perhaps long enough for Xerius and Sark to retreat, but with one leg disabled, it had become an impossible task. He felt the inexorable advance of the possessed Land Raider begin to overwhelm him, pushing him back once again. His Terminator armor's power systems began to fail, red warning runes flashing of imminent power shutdown. Burning pain against the flesh of his arms and legs told of overheated servo-motors, white smoke wafting up from their locations. His armor became heavier and heavier as more energy cables shorted out, his great strength as nothing compared to the armor's sheer weight and mass. Marcus at last dropped his arms from the badly crumpled lower assault ramp in exhaustion and fell to one knee. He felt himself being dragged slowly beneath the Land Raider, the daemon-vehicle eager to prolong the agony of being crushed under its grinding treads. Trapped as he was in his almost inoperable suit of Terminator armor, there was nothing he could do.

_My Emperor, I have failed you… Forgive me…_

A sharp crackling hum unexpectedly drowned out the possessed vehicle's victorious cackling. The pressure was abruptly relieved an instant later as the Chaos Land Raider jerked hard to its left as if struck by something. Marcus barely managed to stop himself from falling flat on his chest as the daemonic tank-transport screamed in agony and rage. The Crusader glanced up to see a hissing, bubbling wound slashed across its right armored flank. Even as the Land Raider began to turn to face its new attacker, the brilliant blue-white beams of an Imperial lascannon filled the Space Marine's vision, accompanied by the same crackling hum. Though half-blinded by the scintillating energies, he still saw the beams slice across the same wounded area, again eliciting harsh cries of pain and anger from the possessed vehicle. Marcus finally became aware of a heavy stomping noise and of the ground shaking beneath him.

Before he could turn to see what was approaching from his left, a familiar voice boomed out to echo off the surrounding ruins.

"**Crusader Marcus, you are relieved. Your work is complete, my brother.**"

Venerable Brother Aescarion stomped into view from the remnants of the dust cloud, his warhull and sarcophagus still badly scarred from battle. The Dreadnought's right knee joint had been replaced with a crude, black component that coughed and wheezed. Dark fluid dripped from the joint mechanism, betraying a hasty battlefield repair. His weapons, however, were now fully functional and this was emphasized as Aescarion fired his twin-linked lascannon again. The blue-white beams pierced the Chaos Land Raider's right flank. Marcus heard muffled thumps, as if explosions were going off deep within the daemonic vehicle's bowels, even as it shrieked in agony.

It paused in its reversal to get away from the Dreadnought, spinning centrally on its treads to face Marcus once again. For a moment, he felt as if he was a loathsome insect being studied by an ancient and truly malevolent intelligence. He could sense the daemon's burning rage at his interference, his stubborn struggle that had led to this failure. The right lascannon sponson swung to bear on his head. Red-white energies blazed brightly within the twin barrels as the weapon was overcharged for a devastating blast. But the momentary delay in its escape proved to be fatal.

The Crusader smiled coldly as Aescarion at last reached the Land Raider. The Dreadnought's torso twisted back to the left with a mechanized hum of grim finality as it approached. The power fist was already lowered, the giant fingers clenched and ready.

"Return to Hell, you bastard," Marcus whispered as the Venerable Brother stepped forward, sweeping his immense close combat weapon out in a powerful uppercut. The monstrous fist smashed into the side of the Land Raider with incredible force. It sheared up through rusted armor plating, before ripping the right lascannon sponson from its mounting entirely. Black blood sprayed from the jagged hole to coat the Dreadnought's massive shoulders and sarcophagus. Seething red-white energies blasted out to tear across his warhull. The screaming Land Raider was lifted clean off its treads by the force of the blow and flung over three meters to smash through a broken wall and land on its left side with a thunderous crash.

With hardly a pause, Aescarion leveled his lascannon at the exposed belly armor of the possessed Land Raider and fired. The twin beams burned through the weak armor, gutting the shrieking vehicle completely. The hulking tank-transport exploded in a storm of fiery red energies. Blackened chunks of shrapnel, burnt organic matter, and sizzling black blood sprayed out over thirty meters. The red energies quickly collapsed in on the remnants of the Land Raider in an implosion, an ear-splitting thunderclap going off as air rushed in to fill the vacuum.

Marcus collapsed back against the ground with a heavy crunch of armor against broken rubble. His dark eyes stared up through the cracked eyepieces of his helmet. He blinked as the sun shone down brightly overhead, its beams slipping through the dark clouds of smog and pollution to momentarily blind him. The Crusader began to slip into unconsciousness as the pain and fatigue finally overwhelmed his superhuman body. Before it could claim him, the famous words of the Immortal Emperor seemed to echo through his mind, words he long ago had memorized completely.

_**They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines…**_

_My Emperor… Your Space Marines have not failed you this day… The line against the Darkness has been held… For now… _


End file.
